


Bad Influence

by Faded_and_Fleeting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 8: Save Me//Hover Bike, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hoverbike Sex, M/M, NSFW, Sheith Month 2018, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 01:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15232176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faded_and_Fleeting/pseuds/Faded_and_Fleeting
Summary: Keith has some fun on his hoverbike.





	Bad Influence

**Author's Note:**

> Day 8 of @sheithmonth! This is 1000% self-indulgent sin. If you are not comfortable with reading smut, do NOT proceed further.

A tall, lanky man is seated at the table to his left. Allura slides into the booth next to him as the music finally blares to life through the speakers, and his arm automatically drapes over her shoulders. His booted feet are kicked up on the table, and in his free hand, a half-smoked blunt slowly simmers. **  
**

“Bro, you probably just imagined it,” Lance starts as he places the blunt between his lips and takes a long, slow drag. “Lighten up a little, will you? Trust me, you’d know if it was the cops.”

Keith isn’t entirely convinced. Then again, being on the scene for nearly five years, busting his ass to evade law enforcement at every crack and turn, he figures he should know. Maybe he’s just paranoid. The Seoul Police Department has some rather vigilant little bastards that just don’t know when to quit. They’ll run themselves through the gates of Hell and back if it means catching a lead on their suspects. Keith never knows when they’ll come nipping at his heels, so he has to stay alert at all times, even if Lance teases him for being such a worrier.

It’s perfectly logical to worry. He’s not going to jail.

Pushing up from his seat, Keith saunters to the back of the club and props himself against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The sleek maroon leather of his jacket pulls taut, straining over his shoulders. His eyes slide over the mass of moving bodies, narrowing considerably as he locks on to a familiar dark figure in the middle of it all, clad in tight, ripped jeans and an equally tight shirt that fits nicely over his beautifully sculpted abdomen and leaves nothing to his imagination. He’s sandwiched deliciously between two other men, the three of them sensually grinding up against one another as the sleazy beat of the music intensifies.

The stranger looks at him, and Keith holds his gaze momentarily, a curious quirk in his brow before he looks away with a smile. It is coy, playful, inviting. It’s a dare to come closer, a dare to indulge. He almost shudders at the burning stare that so openly flickers over Keith as if he’s stripping him naked.

The corner of Keith’s lip pulls up in a smirk as he pushes off the wall, and with a short incline of his head, he briefly acknowledges the stranger’s presence, beckons him over with the sly curl of his finger, and turns on his heel, disappearing into the back hall and beelining for the exit. There are footsteps hot on his trail, rushed and insistent, predatory, and Keith can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand as his pursuer reaches out in a failed attempt to take hold of his wrist, fingers barely grazing his skin.

He shoves the back door open and makes his hasty escape into the back alley. A pretty red hoverbike looms in the shadows. Keith just makes it to her before a heavy hand clamps down on his hip and spins him around, and suddenly he’s pinned to the bike with hard fingers digging into his sides. Keith shudders at the hard press of a body against his, looking up at the stranger through his lashes.

“Your little game of Hide and Seek is over, Kogane,” he growls, his breath hot and strained against Keith’s ear. “I’ve won.”

Keith’s skin bristles. A hand slides up the hard planes of the man’s body and curls around the back of his neck. “Oh, dear,” he chuckles, “it seems you have. Whatever shall I do?”

The man makes a noise. It’s muffled almost instantly, but it sounds like a groan. Keith lets out a sharp gasp as the man takes firm hold of his chin and fits their mouths together in a rushed kiss. It’s hard and fervent and far from graceful. Keith can feel the sharp drag of teeth along his lower lip, the smooth, wet glide of a tongue as it seamlessly pushes into his mouth.

Keith moans, hangs against the man with his fingers hooked tight around his neck. The man reaches up, hastily unzips his jacket, and tugs it off. It’s promptly tossed off to the side, finding a new home somewhere on the pavement. Keith pulls back abruptly and glares up at the man.

“You are  _so_  going to be paying for a new jacket,” he huffs, his hands making quick work of the other’s belt buckle. “That was my favorite one.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” the man chuckles and dips his head down, nuzzling against Keith’s neck. His hands slide around Keith’s waist, palms resting comfortably over the curve of Keith’s ass.

Keith chokes on a gasp, his hips surging forward on sheer instinct. He feels the man laugh against his neck and groans, “Don’t fucking tease me now, you asshole. You’re the reason I’ve been on edge all week.”

“That so?” the man hums. He opens his mouth over Keith’s nape and kisses him, wet and hungry, and Keith responds with a shaky exhale. “Looks like we’re going to have to fix that, aren’t we?”

The man’s leg wedges its way in between Keith’s thighs, pressing against his cock, bulging within the confines of his tight jeans, and Keith shudders, grinding down hard against the man’s thigh, whimpering with every roll of his hips. “Fuck—  _Please_ ,” he moans.

The man tears himself away from Keith’s neck, admiring his handiwork. He has one hand on Keith’s hip, the other slipping down his front, unfastening his jeans and slipping inside. Keith immediately rubs his cock into the warm, firm clasp of the man’s hand, drawing a laugh from him as he leans forward and drags his tongue along Keith’s lips. “You like that, don’t you?”

“No.” It’s a lie and they both know it. Keith bucks again, whimpers when the man gets a hand inside his underwear. He doesn’t free Keith’s dick from the restriction of the fabric. The pressure of the snug cotton keeps his hand imprisoned around Keith’s cock, tight and intense.

“Do you really want to lie to me right now, sweetheart?” the man asks, raising a curious brow as he tightens his grip over Keith’s cock. He leans forward and kisses him fiercely, a stark contrast to the slow rhythm he sets as he jerks Keith off. “You should know what happens when you lie.”

Keith squirms under the hands that handle him, churning his hips, rocking and shoving and forcing his dick through the tight grip of the man’s hand. Anything for the release he so desperately craves.

“I’ll ask you again, and you better not lie,” the man says in his ear. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Keith breathes. “Fuck yes.”

“That’s a good boy,” the man chuckles. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” Keith moans. “God,  _fuck_ , please.”

“Patience, sweetheart. You’ll get yours soon. But first, I want you to do something for me,” the man says, slowly releasing his grip on Keith’s cock.

Keith whines his protest, fingers clinging harder to the man’s arms.

“I’ve wanted to fuck your pretty little face for some time now, and you are going to kneel here and take it. After that, I’ll fuck you real good.” The man lifts his hand from Keith’s hip and brushes a finger along his cheek. “Now, kneel.”

Keith does as he’s told without a word, and in one smooth gesture, he’s kneeling before the man. The pavement is cold and damp under his knees, but it is nothing compared to the fire that dances along his skin.

The man puts a hand in Keith’s hair, tightens his fist, and yanks his head back. The pain is bright and sweet, and Keith lets his mouth fall open in a startled but pleased gasp. The man holds his cock to Keith’s lips, biting back a low groan as he’s wrapped in the wet heat of Keith’s mouth. His hand presses against the back of Keith’s head and he ramps forward, thrusting his cock in deeper. It’s firm and heavy on Keith’s tongue, and when the man surges forward again, Keith’s gag reflex kicks in. He tries to squirm free, but the man holds him tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely. “Relax, breathe, and take me.”

Keith shudders at the note of command in the man’s voice and melts at the reassuring touch of fingers against his cheek. He breathes, opens up. The man goes slow, making him take more, and Keith keeps on breathing, works his mouth around the man’s dick, accepts it when he gets a little rougher. When the man pulls free, Keith almost keels over. He groans a protest, tremors racking his body. His cock is so hard it’s painful.

“You did so well, sweetheart. Oh, my good boy,” the man says. Keith looks up to find the man smiling down at him. “Now, stand up.”

Keith doesn’t even hesitate.

“Pants down,” the man growls. “Don’t bother with anything else.”

Keith draws his lower lip between his teeth and gives the man a coy look as he slowly slides his pants down his legs, boxers and all. The man grabs hold of his waist and spins him around. The cool metal of a prosthetic hand presses in between his shoulder-blades and forces him to lean forward until he’s bent over the hoverbike.

The man kneels down behind Keith and spits into the cleft of his ass, burying his face between his cheeks as he tongues the tiny hole hidden within. It’s quick and messy. Saliva drips down his chin, but the man is diving into Keith’s ass so aggressively, licking, sucking, thrusting his tongue inside the moment Keith relaxes enough to let him, that he doesn’t even care. He presses one finger, and then two, into Keith, and spreads the wetness both deep inside and across the puckered skin of Keith’s entrance. It’s worth hearing the sounds Keith makes as he pushes his hips back against him.

“I— I thought that you— _oh, shit_ —were going to fuck me,” Keith gasps out.

The man stands up suddenly and grasps the back of Keith’s head. His grip is tight as he yanks Keith’s head back and seals their lips in a bruising kiss. Keith pushes his hips back against the man’s and moans wantonly into his mouth.

“Please,” Keith whispers, hardly getting a word in before his lips are smothered again.

“What did I say about patience?” the man growls, landing a harsh smack against Keith’s ass that has him quaking. He reaches down to undo his own pants, hurriedly pushing them down enough only to free his rigid cock. He licks the palms of his hand wetly and then spits in it to ensure there’s enough liquid, and then begins fisting himself roughly, giving a few harsh tugs to take him away from the edge of orgasm. Running the fat head of his cock over Keith’s puckered entrance is all the warning he gives before he pushes his way inside.

Keith groans, nails digging into the leather seat of his bike as the man behind him goes slow, pulling out on a long, shiver-inducing slide before thrusting right back in. The impact pushes Keith’s thighs sharply into the rigid steel body of his bike, so he uses both hands for leverage to push back into the man. His pants become moans quickly enough, and the man’s thrusts become much faster, much deeper, each snap of the man’s hips drawing a needy whine from Keith.

The man reaches forward, grasping Keith’s shoulder to use as his own leverage and fucks into him hard and dirty. Keith sways forward, tries to hold position. He’s blindly grasping for anything other than the seat to hold onto because it isn’t enough. His arms tremble as the man hits something inside him and, oh. Thousands of sensations swamp him all at once, and Keith is making noises he never even knew he could make.

“You like that, sweetheart?” the man asks him, voice hoarse. “You like it when I fuck you hard and dirty like this?”

“Shit— Fuck, yes,” Keith gasps. “Yes,  _yes_. I love it when you fuck me like this. Love it so  _fucking_  much.”

The man grasps Keith’s hips tight enough to bruise them. He grunts, and it’s a filthy sound, urgent and demanding. It’s not the kind of sound Keith’s heard him make before and he likes it. It’s going to his head. Keith mewls in response and thrusts back, the toe prickling, stomach tightening sensation hitting him full force, and he can’t keep up the charade anymore.

“Shiro, Shiro, Shiro, oh, oh,  _Shiro!_ ”

Shiro watches as Keith falls apart beneath him, head thrown back in ecstasy, mouth wide open, and tears leaking from the sides of his eyes. Heavy white streams of come line the side of his bike, and Keith collapses across the seat. The whole phenomenon is gorgeous and beautiful and fuck, it drives Shiro off the edge faster than he can handle it. A few more shallow thrusts and Shiro comes hard inside Keith with a loud moan, collapsing heavily over Keith’s back.

Several long minutes pass and then, with a sigh, Shiro slides out of Keith, a light chuckle escaping him as he watches how Keith spasms from the loss of contact.

Reaching out, Shiro takes Keith by the shoulder and stands him up, turning him around so he can easily connect their lips. “You were so good for me,” he murmurs. “So, so good for me.”

Keith chuckles lightly. “You still owe me a new jacket, you jerk.”

“Noted,” Shiro grins. They kiss for a while, and then Shiro decides that it’s time to go. He pulls himself together and fixes his clothes before immediately helping Keith with his. He picks up Keith’s previously discarded jacket and slings it over his shoulder. “I should be heading home. Gotta be at the station early tomorrow. I’ll drop your jacket off after I finish up there.”

“You could stay at my place for the night.” Keith purses his lips as he mounts his bike. “What’re you gonna tell your colleagues when you get there?”

“Too dangerous,” Shiro shrugs. “And anyway, I’d give them the usual. Caught sight of you but you got away.”

“Don’t you think they’ve heard enough of the same old story?”

“They’ve been after you for five years, babe. Of course, they’re tired of it,” Shiro smirks. “That just means you’re good at what you do.”

“Funny,” Keith muses. “I thought you were the best cop in the district, and yet you still haven’t managed to catch me.”

“You’re just an extremely bad influence and make it impossible for me to do my job,” Shiro grins, reaching up to grab the back of Keith’s neck and pull him down for another kiss. “Just be careful, babe. I may not be after you, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the Seoul PD isn’t. They’ve got people all over the city looking for you and Lance.”

“You’ll cover for me, won’t you?” Keith blinks down at him.

“You know I will.”

Keith smiles. “And this is why I love you.”

“I will say this once again,” Shiro chuckles. “You, Keith Kogane, are a terrible influence.”

“But you love me, right?”

“You know I do.”

Keith smiles, and with that he revs up his bike and takes off into the night, the throaty purr of its engine roaring well into the distance.


End file.
